I Will Lay Me Down (Like A Bridge Over Troubled Water)
by ambitiousbutrubbish
Summary: When they're together, everything else can wait. - Charlie/Matteusz


**A/N:** I was 15,000 words into a fic for another pairing and then I watched 7 episodes of Class in a day, abandoned that, and wrote this instead. Oops.

* * *

Everything has fallen apart. Again.

And yes - with finding out that aliens are real and do not come in peace, with his father kicking him out of his home - lately, the bottom has been falling out of Matteusz's world fairly (unfairly?) regularly. But he's not used to it. He's not used to the way that it feels. He's not used to the hurt, the shock, the betrayal. The way it feels like an actual physical pain, like a lead ball dropping into his guts and being swung around every time he moves until it's all twisted and he feels like he's going to be sick. The way it feels like his heart is being squeezed by the foot of a giant bird of prey, crushed and constricted so every beat is an ache, a strain, the talons piercing the soft muscle and bleeding him out slowly.

And somehow, this feels worse than the other times.

The fact that almost every other species in the cosmos appears to want to kill him and his entire planet is not encouraging. In fact, it rather shoots all of his childhood dreams in the face: of leaving this planet behind for one where he isn't hated for how he feels. Or all of his more recent dreams where he goes somewhere where they don't laugh at his accent or the way he sometimes isn't sure of the word he wants to use. But then there was _Charlie_ , and he didn't need all of that anymore because Charlie accepts and loves and fights for him exactly as he is. Plus, Charlie is an alien, so they can't all be bad. The entire universe can't be dark and dangerous and murderous if Charlie comes from somewhere out there. Maybe one day he _will_ leave Earth, not because he has this vision of a utopia where he won't be teased or hated for being himself, but because he wants to see the universe. And with Charlie by his side he will be going in with his eyes wide open.

And that his father had kicked him out had honestly been a long time coming. They had been fighting for years, quietly but consumingly, every interaction tinged with the fear that this would be the last one. He had wanted so badly to believe that his father would eventually come around, would eventually realise that he loved his son no matter what, that it had _hurt_ when he told him to leave and never return until he had repented his feelings and sought forgiveness from God. But it felt more like an inevitable conclusion than anything else. Still, he had cried on his way to Charlie's, tripped down off the sidewalk because it was difficult to see through the haze of tears and rolled his ankle. He only stopped because he didn't wan't Miss Quill to see it. Londoners could complain all they wanted about the weather, but the cold was useful for getting the redness from your cheeks and around your eyes. And he had cried again, after the Lankin and after Charlie had fallen asleep, once he had the chance to get his breath back and think about the night. For himself, and for Charlie - to lose an entire planet of his people and to not have had one bond strong enough for the Lankin to find a personification of his sorrow to try and manipulate him. All that grief, and not one person to focus it on. He must mourn for them all.

Matteusz had made another family, with Charlie and with their friends. People that like him for him, who would fight to protect him and their world, who would stick together despite their differences and support each other like a family should. Or so he had thought. He had finally started to feel like he was filling the hole that had opened in his heart when his parents had rejected him, and then they had fought. And maybe it was because of some alien prison rock, and maybe they said things that they never would have thought or even consciously realised without it being forced out of them, and maybe their emotions had been artificially heightened. But it had felt so _real_ ; so cruel and personal. He doesn't know how he will ever make it up to Charlie, how he ever could. Charlie doesn't think like a human, doesn't really understand how you can fight with someone and still be friends with them. But Matteusz will try; every day for the rest of his life if he has to.

They had promised to talk about it - everything they had said under the influence of the rock prison - when they got home, but with Miss Quill turning up and threatening Charlie before fainting, it had all been too much and they were too tired and they agreed to wait until tomorrow without having to say anything. Instead they had called an ambulance for Miss Quill and Charlie had managed to use the fact that she was legally his guardian to ride with her to make sure she got to the hospital safely and without hurting any of the paramedics. The hospital was closer to their apartment than the school, so Matteusz and Charlie had arrived around the same time and silently walked up the stairs and got ready for bed. Matteusz had been prepared to spend the night on the couch downstairs, but Charlie had reached for him as he was leaving and held on so tight as he led him to their bed that Matteusz had crawled in right after him and wrapped his arms around Charlie's stiff form as he lay next to him, grasped back just as desperately.

He couldn't sleep. Not with all the hurt and confusion and fear stirring itself together in his head, not with the way that Charlie still trembled slightly in his arms with the overflow of holding himself together so punishingly hard. Not with the knowledge that Miss Quill is free. He has no idea what that will mean for them, for any of them. Especially Charlie. Who never has a bad word to say about anyone, because apparently his culture believes that thinking something is the same as doing it and Matteusz has to agree with Tanya there that that it all kinds of messed up. He can't even imagine what she has done, that Charlie would openly dislike her so. But given how feverishly he had heard her advocate for genocide, how passionately she had argued it was the right thing to do, he does not want to imagine, either. He had wanted to scream at her - her and Charlie both - that they could never know for sure that exterminating the Shadowkin would not kill innocents, that there were not young Shadowkin that did not yet follow the murderous rampage of their people. But he didn't. Charlie had called her a terrorist, and no one had told him what had happened to Kevin, but he caught a glimpse of the missing poster the Doctor had shown Miss Quill and he had put two and two together. He was afraid that she wouldn't care. And he's sure that Charlie would, he truely is, but as long as there is the most minute possibility that he might not, Matteusz does not want to know.

She didn't kill Charlie before she passed out, but Matteusz doesn't imagine that it was out of the kindness of her own heart. Perhaps she simply had not wanted to cause a scene by murdering someone at a school. Or, more likely, she simply needs Charlie to activate the Cabinet of Souls and then she will kill him. She can't threaten Charlie's life to make it happen, either, because she knows he knows she needs him. But she can threaten his friends. Matteusz has faced down death for Charlie once before already. He will do it again without hesitation.

And so he stays awake and protects Charlie from the world with his body and he waits for Miss Quill to come for him. He decides to call April in the morning and ask her to help him. She was the one who was already friends with Charlie before everything alien, she was the one who constantly leapt to his defence during detention, picked up the alien rock because Charlie was in pain. She was the one Charlie ran to catch before she fell, and Matteusz would be jealous of their closeness if he weren't so glad that Charlie has a friend like her. Because Matteusz can't stay awake forever, but maybe between the two of them they can watch out for Charlie.

And as Charlie shudders, Matteusz doesn't even want to imagine what's going on in Charlie's head that's keeping him awake.

-00000-

"So you are claustrophobic?" Matteusz asks eventually, when the silence between them has strained so thin that waiting for the inevitable _thwack_ when it breaks is more painful than the actual sting. Charlie starts in his arms from the surprise of him talking and almost smacks him in the chin with the top of his head. Not a particularly promising start to the conversation.

"What?– I– Yes." Charlie splutters out, and it's endearing, yes. But it's also strange and almost frightening that this being - this alien who freely admitted that he is only one step away from genocide, who by the standards of his own culture is as good as committing it, who is probably doing it right now even as he lays in bed wrapped up with him - can stutter and stumble over words. "Yes. Since I was a child."

"Why?" Matteusz asks without thinking, and even though Charlie doesn't react to the question, Matteusz is still embarrassed by the intrusiveness. "It is okay if you don't want to talk about it"

He feels Charlie shake his head and Matteusz is about to let them fall into another awkward silence when Charlie speaks. "I suppose it's because I have always been trapped. Not literally, although sometimes when I was young, before I learned to defend myself, my parents would hide me in small places when the Quill attacked. But. Metaphorically. I was always trapped. By my duties, by what a Prince is supposed to be, by expected standards of behaviour. I live my life in confinement and then I die and my soul lives in a box for all eternity. It's a suffocating prospect."

Matteusz pulls him a little closer, a little tighter, tries to offer reassurance with the warmth of his body. "You do not have to be trapped here." He says in a low voice, like this is a secret that Charlie can find comfort in when he needs it. "You can be yourself." He pauses, and then decides to say it because the fundamental truth of _them_ has never changed and he means it completely, probably more than anything else he's ever said. "I love you."

Charlie wrenches away and Matteusz tries to cling to him but he forgets, sometimes, that Charlie is a lot stronger than him and he can't hold him if he doesn't want him to. Besides, Charlie is already sitting on the edge of the bed and facing away from him before Matteusz has time to react. "But I can't." Charlie says, and he sounds miserable and pained and angry all at once. "You don't want to know what I think of. None of you do. You think it's frightening. When I speak of my people you think them strange, or that their sense of morality and what is just does not measure up to your own. And you tell me, constantly, that what they thought doesn't matter because they are dead and gone." Charlie stops and takes a deep, shuddering breath and Matteusz sits bolt upright, tangles himself up in the sheets in his haste to get to Charlie and almost faceplants into his back, only just manages to wrap his arms around his waist in the hug he had intended and hooks his chin over his shoulder. Because it is true, he does think the Rhodians had a questionable approach to justice and morality that Charlie needs to challenge within himself, but he had never meant it to be a continuous reminder of Charlie's loss and grief.

Charlie doesn't acknowledge his touch, but he also doesn't pull away again, and Matteusz holds on tighter, strokes a thumb up and down over the bottom of Charlie's ribs with his right hand. He can feel the bones under the skin, and Matteusz can't help but idly wonder, as he has before, whether it is real, organic material under there, or something more synthetic. It's not the time for such thoughts, he knows, but everything about Charlie's existence fascinates him.

"I am freer." Charlie says, his voice thicker than it was before. "But I am still trapped. In my lack of understanding and the stupid questions I have to ask to get through the day. In this ridiculous human body. In the expectations of a Prince to protect his people, expectations that don't leave me behind just because my people are dead. In being the last of my species." Charlie cuts himself off with a sob, but he otherwise doesn't appear to be actively crying.

"Charlie." Matteusz whispers, because Charlie's pain is too raw for anything else. "We all feel trapped sometimes. Maybe not to the same extent. Definitely not for the same reasons. But I have felt this too." Charlie makes a questioning sound, and it's not quite an acknowledgement of Matteusz behind him and wrapped around him, but it is something. "I felt trapped by my liking boys. I knew my parents would not approve and I hid it and I let them pretend that it was not real. It only got better when I accepted who I am. And then I met you and it was more than just _better_. It was good. It is good." And finally, Charlie turns his head to look at Matteusz. His eyes are red, both from suppressed tears and the fact that he had been bleeding from them mere hours before. Matteusz would like to turn too, just a small tilt and he could kiss him, but he isn't finished talking. "I am not saying that you should be using the Cabinet and committing genocide. But maybe you should accept that you want to, and that that doesn't make you a bad person. You have not done it. You are not a monster." This time Matteusz does turn slightly, and he presses their lips together just briefly. Charlie tastes like grief; the salt of tears and the metallic tang of blood. But he is also warm, and soft.

"I want to hear about your people." Matteusz continues. "Just because I may think that it is strange, that does not mean I don't want to know. I am sure that there are many things I do that are strange to you." Charlie's lips quirk up, and Matteusz reminds himself to ask about that later. "I want to know everything about you." And for the first time, probably since Miss Quill pushed him into an ordinary classroom and locked the door behind her, Charlie relaxes. He doesn't slouch, Matteusz doubts Charlie even knows how to slouch, but all his hard, unyielding muscles let go, softens, and he lets out a slow, shaky breath. Matteusz tugs at him from where he has his arms wrapped around his waist and Charlie allows himself to be led, pulled down until they are lying side-by-side, heads bowed together, so close that they share breath. If Matteusz focuses too hard on Charlie's eyes they blur together into one.

He rests a hand just under Charlie's ribcage where he can feel the steady rise and fall of his breaths, and a heartbeat that he should not. "And your human body is not ridiculous." He says with a smirk. "I like it quite a lot."

Charlie blushes. He freely admits that he finds human humour confusing, but he picks up on innuendoes well enough. Matteusz expects that he gives it away far too clearly on his face. He can't control what it reveals when he thinks about Charlie. "I only meant that this isn't my real body." Charlie mutters.

"Huh." Matteusz huffs. He'd never thought about that. It's silly, really, in hindsight. Charlie is not human on the inside, in the way he thinks and believes, but Matteusz hadn't really seriously considered that he would be different on the outside, too. "What do you look like?"

The colour flees Charlie's face. "You wouldn't like it." He says. "Besides, I can't change back even if I wanted to."

"I might." Matteusz shrugs. "Humans find many things cute." Red starts creeping back into Charlie's cheeks. "You could maybe draw yourself?"

"I'd rather not." Charlie says, but he sounds more embarrassed now than nervous.

"Describe something for me, then." Matteusz says, grin widening, determined to get _something_ out of Charlie to prove that he is truly interested.

Charlie thinks about the request for a moment, before settling on; "a lot more spikes."

Matteusz considers this. "Wait." He says, slowly. "Miss Quill. Does she have–" And pushes himself up a little and reaches behind his head with his hand, moving his arm back-and forth away from his body.

Charlie screws up in face in concentration for a few seconds before he understands Matteusz's pantomime. "Quills?" He asks. "Yes."

Matteusz pauses for a moment, hand suspended in midair, while he takes that in. And then he laughs, loud and almost delirious from stress and lack of sleep but with genuine humour. Miss Quill: named for a species named for a physical characteristic. Quills suit her, he thinks, and laughs some more. Charlie looks confused, but he smiles up at him anyway. Matteusz releases the tension in his arm that is holding him up and flops down on the bed again. He puts his hand back on Charlie again, and shifts his legs so that one is hooked in between his.

"We will maybe start small." He says, when his laughter has calmed. "What is your real name?"

"Charlie is a fairly close equivalent." He answers. "I'm not sure it's something humans are equipped to say."

"Tell me anyway." Matteusz says, and Charlie does. He's right; it's not something that Matteusz could every say, and the fact that Charlie can is more proof that there is something decidedly alien under Charlie's skin. It's as much an emotion as an actual sound, but somehow he can hear the 'Charlie' in there anyway. "It's beautiful." He whispers, strangely choked up.

"Thank you." Charlie replies, strikingly formal, and then suddenly his face crumples and he bursts into tears, little whimpering sounds that are more undignified than anything he's ever heard from him. Matteusz pulls at where he's connected to Charlie, gathers him against his chest and presses his face to his hair, making what he hopes Charlie will recognise as soothing noises.

Because yes, he is afraid of Charlie. Not so much because he fears he will commit genocide, because he doesn't truely believe Charlie would ever do it, even without him to stop him. The rock didn't make them speak empirical truths, just what they thought to be true. Faced with it, Matteusz is sure that Charlie would not go through with it; he already hasn't, even when the beings that killed his people were right before his eyes and he held the weapon to destroy them in his hands. There's a lot he doesn't know about Charlie, he's only just now learning how much, but he does knows that he's a good person who doesn't want anyone to die.

He's more afraid of how much power Charlie has to hurt him. Not physically - although he's seen him perform some pretty impossible feats and he doesn't doubt that he could if he wanted to - but how easily he could break him, take away everything good that has happened to him in so long. Because it all comes back to Charlie. All his new friends - his new _family_ even if they're fighting - he has because Charlie dragged him along into this new world. He could take it all away again in a few casual words.

His fear, it is tiny, _insignificant_ , compared to the fear he feels _for_ Charlie; a sad, lonely Prince on an alien world. Creatures that live in shadows coming out of a rift in space and time to try and kill him, Miss Quill, free and armed with her hatred for him and his people. Charlie took her gun, but Matteusz doesn't doubt she could just use something else. The fear of him is _nothing_ compared to everything else he feels for Charlie.

But it's there, living in the darkest, most fearful, most shameful part of his heart. The part that wishes that he could just stop being gay so that his parents will love him again, rather than forcing them to change and accept him. The part that he doesn't want to have. Charlie isn't human. Matteusz can't be sure if something will make perfect sense to him that Matteusz can't forgive. He doesn't always know how Charlie will react to things.

But he has the rest of his life to find out.

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 **A/N:** With similarly Paul Simon-named sequels **I Have Squandered My Resistance** , **And My Travelling Companions Are Ghosts And Empty Sockets** and **Spinning In Infinity**


End file.
